It Never Was Enough
by Vaecordia
Summary: Alfred and Ivan, America and Russia. Personal, diplomatic, political, secret, private, public. Hate and love, from their beginning to their end. Both so similar, so different, the flip-sides of a coin - maybe that's why they complement each other so well. Historical RusAme, 1776 to present day (and further). (Previously called Since That Day)
1. Prologue

_**WARNINGS:** Because this is historical, every warning that applies to history basically applies here. So: war, blood, gore, death, character deaths here and there, war and war and war, nuclear weapons, sensitive topics (this is historical, so there will be mentions of slavery, the holocaust, of the USSR and its own prison camps, and because I have read and heard multiple things, also mentions of American military actions), pairings (some people like to be warned about that), dark characters (believe you me, it will get darker - as my stories usually do)._

 ** _Summary:_** _Alfred and Ivan, America and Russia. Personal, diplomatic, political, secret, private, public. Hate and love. From their beginning to their end. Both so similar, so different, the flip-sides of a coin. Maybe that's why they complement each other so well._ _Historical RusAme, 1776 to present day (and further)._

* * *

Prologue

He could remember sitting atop a hill, gazing at the ocean. He could remember how it glimmered under the sunlight, a million diamonds embedded in its waves. The foam of the sea washed onto the white beach, the golden sand just visible before it disappeared under the treeline. The air, crisp with the late arrival of autumn, filled with the scent of red and orange leaves, of late, snowy white summer flowers around him. The salt of the sea reaching even him, as if twirling aimlessly about in the air. The hum of nature, soft and gentle.

He could remember seeing the thick forest, the trees reaching high upwards, towards him, but he was even taller than the trees, taller than the world on that hill. There was a bee, flying around, landing from one flower to another - those white specks that dotted the lilting grass. The breeze, gentle and swift and soft and sweet, caressing the blades of grass and making the hill an ocean of green whose waves spread in every direction, a movement even more random than the regular roll of the sea.

He could see in his mind the clearing where the tribe was, people seeming so small compared to the expanse of landscape he saw. Their voices drifted up, reaching him as a delicate murmur only - one that mingled harmoniously with the other sounds of nature, the chirp of a bird, the rustle of leaves, the purr of the ocean.

And yet, he remembered that, staring at the landscape as he did every morning, there was something different. His mother had taught him all the noises of nature, but he heard a foreign one. He had learnt to differentiate each smell of nature, and there was a stranger one. He knew the landscape by heart, and there was an addition. He couldn't find it, not yet, he couldn't see anything, anything new or wrong or-

It had been a moment after that he spotted the dark shadows against the horizon, but he didn't know what they were. They were alien, and they didn't belong there. There was bitter scent to it, there was a buzz surrounding them. Though he knew that at the distance he was, he shouldn't hear them or smell them, he could sense them, and it was clear that they were approaching. There were more than one, he saw three, maybe more.

He had stood on shaky, uncertain, frightened legs, scuttering down the hill, hurried steps becoming more hasty as he drew closer to the village. He had to warn them, tell the Chief, or his mother.

After that, everything became a blur in his mind. He wasn't quite sure what happened and what didn't, but he felt loss and confusion and fear and something else. He wasn't sure what was memory, what was imagination. Most of the memory itself bordered on a feeling of surreal, far away, long gone. He wasn't sure what it was that he remembered, because the next thing he was sure of was a completely other setting, another time, another place, another scene.

He remembered now the tall shadow standing in front of him, the sun beaming from behind the man, the strange voice that spoke sounds he couldn't understand. The extended hand, the soothing tone, the warm and welcoming feeling from his words. Was there a voice? He seemed to remember a voice, telling him to pick, _make a choice,_ and he had. He had taken the shadow's hand, and then the sun had shone on the man's face - such a strange face, with a pale skin and pale hair, green eyes that reminded Alfred of the hill. The voice had said nothing since, and he wasn't sure if he'd just imagined it.

And after that memory, everything became clear as day - he remembered it all, from the way Arthur told him not to run in the newly built house to how he met with this representative of this company or that adviser to that important investor. He remembered that manners and the ways and the life he had to learn, but forgot the life he had to lose. He remembered watching with confused eyes how his complexion soon changed, his skin became paler and his hair lighter - only his eyes remained the same blue they had always been.

He remembered how Arthur had begun leaving more and more often for longer periods of time, but how every time he visited he was more irritable, he was more sour, he was more distant and cold. He remembered how he would meet so many different messengers who would tell him about this and that new policy.

He remembered how he would see men being sent off to a place whose name he didn't remember, and couldn't pronounce even if he did.

He remembered feeling more odd, how the grumblings of his people were soon heard at every corner of the street, and he remembered how he finally met with those people who were decided to put an end to it.

He remembered Arthur's last visit, the violence, the pain and the hurt that had accompanied it - he remembered how he had then stormed out of their house, and into Washington's. He remembered the first shots of war, he remembered the shaking of his hands, and he remembered the weight of the weapon in his hands.

And now, he feels the pride within him as he looked at the fifty-six signatures, all scribbled in different scripts underneath the text that made him a nation.

And he hears the voice, that which he thought he had imagined so long ago.

 _It's your turn, now._

It was July the Fourth, 1776, in Philadelphia, U.S.A.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Hello, hello, hello, it's me once again with a new, multi-chaptered story that is a 100% RusAme treat! (Well, mainly.) I figured that because I often get writer's block for M.A.D., I should start writing something else completely to clear my ideas. And when it began forming in my head, I realised that I was planning to write the entirety of Russo-American relations throughout history. So, it became really long. But it can't hurt, I mean now I can switch between both stories when I have a writer's block for one. I regard this as a good idea, though some might say that no, multiple stories at a time is not, in fact, a good idea._

 _This was only a very short prologue that establishes Alfred up until the point where I start Chapter I, next chapter will be longer - and it will be published very soon seeing as it is nearly ready._

 _Anyhow, let's get this show on the road! Oh, and if you like this so far, I would very much appreciate anything like a review, or favourites, or follows, they all make me reaaaaally happy._

 _Until next time!_


	2. What We Were

What We Were

St. Petersburg, August 13, 1776

The doors of the room were opened, a man entered unceremoniously and unannounced. "Your Imperial Highness," the man said, bowing deeply before the Russian Empress, Catherine the Great. Next to her stood Ivan Braginsky, the Russian Empire, a curious look in his eyes. He eyed the man with surprise, as the nation had rarely seen the statesman so flustered.

"Count Panin, What brings you here, today, in such a state?" The Empress asked.

The man stood to face the two people in the room. "Only a few hours ago, I received from Ambassador Lizakevich in London a letter. It recounted how news of a Declaration of Independence from the Thirteen Colonies in the Americas have reached him - saying that the British are furious, and are requesting for any and every European country to send aid in order to quell the revolt that has begun across the ocean. He has informed me that British representatives are on their way here, to seek assistance. He also does speak admiringly of the American colonial leadership, and mentions their bravery - though it may also be foolishness, going to war with an Empire." The man seemed as if there were something else he wanted to mention, but was refraining. It wasn't very hard to notice, and the Empress was very perceptive.

"Is there anything else, Count?" She asked.

"Yes, your Highness, in fact there is - may be. Behind the door now stand two men from the Thirteen Colonies, and wished me to request an audience with you," he said, obviously at unease.

Catherine seemed interested. "Who are they, and what do they wish to speak to me for?"

"They say their names are Francis Dana, who says he is an American statesman and lawyer, and the other, Alfred Jones - who, in my opinion, is not yet of age, even. He did not disclose his position with the Colonial Congress. As to their business..." he trailed off, sounding unsure.

Catherine glanced at Ivan, who looked on, curious. "Send them in," she stated after a moment's thought.

The man bowed again, and walked out of the room. A few minutes later, the doors were opened again, and two men walked in. They seemed to be the victims of a long journey, but still - they walked in with a fair pride. They came in front of the two Russians, before bowing. The younger man seemed slightly confused and uncertain, only following what the other did. He looked fourteen, fifteen at the most.

"Welcome to Russia, gentlemen."

"Much obliged, your Highness. I am Francis Dana, and this is Alfred Jones. We are here on behalf of the Colonial Congress of the Thirteen Colonies. We are honored that you would grant us this audience," the older man said - Dana, was it?

"And what brings you so far from your home, across an ocean even?" Catherine asked, her voice gentle and sweet. Not yet having decided on an opinion of them, she decided to entertain the benefit of the doubt.

Dana spoke again. "As you may have heard already, the Thirteen Colonies have been at war with the British Empire for some time now, and have now declared independence from it."

"I do not really see how it affects us, or the Russian Empire," she stated, clearly trying to drive the foreigners into a corner, attempt to make her way around all niceties.

"We are here to establish relations between the independent states and European powers, as the British Empire has kept American interactions and relations with foreign countries to a minimum. The Russian Empire is one of our most important trade partners, and we wish to continue that trade despite the current conflict. We would like to ask your Highness' stand on the conflict, whether or not we have come here in vain or not."

Catherine listened quietly during the entire time. She refrained from responding for a while - whether it was to unsettle the others or because she was thinking their words over was not clear. Instead of a direct answer, her eyes landed on the younger man. "Mr. Dana, you have been speaking this entire time, yet I do not know who this young Mr. Jones is?"

At that, Jones looked up to the Empress and looked momentarily confused. He seemed unsure of the custom, so he settled for a small bow of recognition. "My name is Alfred Jones, and I am here to represent the Colonial Congress, your Highness," he stated, in a voice that betrayed how rehearsed that sentence was.

"You seem so young, how old are you?" She asked, a gleam in her eye. She glanced at Dana, who seemed to understand she had an inkling about the truth.

Jones faltered momentarily. "I- Nineteen, your Highness."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Her voice was soft, yet there was an edge of taunting in it.

"Your Highness, if I may?" Mr. Dana interjected. He said something to Jones, before turning back to the Empress. The younger man seemed confused for a moment, before settling on a response. At his side, Dana looked encouragingly at the younger man.

"I am the physical representative of the thirteen United States of America, your Highness," he said, a slight wavering in his voice. So unaccustomed to European royalty yet.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones. Ivan Braginsky here," she motioned to Ivan, "is the representative of the Russian Empire."

Jones turned his eyes to the other man, and bowed politely to him, too. Ivan stood still, barely acknowledging the American's motion. He turned back to Catherine. "We know that the British Empire wishes to forge as many alliances with European countries as he can, and it is likely they will reach out to you, also." So polite, yet so blunt and straightforward.

"They are visiting in a few days to that purpose, I believe."

"We have traded with the Russian Empire for a decade or so now, and we would be very grateful if it were possible to keep this trade going." He paused for a moment. "Your Highness, we are at war, and we need all the supplies we can possibly get. We wish only that you were so kind as to not break this trade alliance, as we have but few allies in this war."

"And what would you have to offer to the Russian Empire in return? I'm sure that the British would have very much to offer in exchange for us joining their side."

At that, Jones seemed slightly put off. "I... We really have nothing to offer, your Highness, except stronger relations between the United States of America and the Russian Empire."

Ivan was honestly surprised by this young nation. Despite all the politeness and sheepishness of his words, there was a certain pride, a sense of certainty in him, that seemed unwilling to bow down to anyone. It seemed he was determined to fight his way to freedom, and Ivan was intrigued - so young, yet he was still fighting against one of the strongest empires in the world. And here he was, coming with nothing to ask for the help of a country that he'd probably only read about in books. And he admitted to the emptiness of his offer, how little he had to exchange. To Ivan, it was unseen and unheard of: living amidst other European powers meant that having no leverage was poverty, hoping for a deal without anything to offer was suicide, enemies were cheap and friends even more so, and that wealth - material, spiritual, emotional, none of them cared in what shape or form - meant power. And that was all Europeans seemed to be after.

And yet, here in front of him stood the youngest nation he had met in a long time, standing with nothing to offer and his thoughts bared, but was not grovelling for pity and mercy. He showed he had nothing, and wanted nothing, but peace.

But Ivan saw something else in the young man, something he could not quite place.

"I admire your honesty, Mr. Jones," the Empress admitted. "And rest assured, I am certain we can reach some form of agreement. Now, you may remain in the palace during your stay, and a servant will lead you to your quarters. Once dinner is served, someone will come to you to announce it. We may discuss more of the matter then."

"Thank you, your Highness," Dana said.

The two men bowed, before turning and leaving the room. The guard at the door called for a servant to lead them to their allocated quarters. The Empress turned to Ivan.

"You were rather silent."

"Yes, indeed I was," Ivan said, not yet quite sure of what he thought of the young colony - or nation, now.

"What did you think of him?"

"He's intriguing, to say the least. He's so young, and has already held for almost - how long is it, now? It has been over a year, and now he has declared independence from the Empire. There is something... I have a feeling we will be hearing a lot about him."

Catherine looked amused. "Well, of course we will - the nation is only young now, he will be the subject throughout Europe for some time. Whatever the outcome of this war may be."

Ivan did not respond.

* * *

Alfred and Dana followed a servant, who was leading them to their quarters. The young nation was looking around him, slight awe in his eyes as he took in the grandiose palace. White walls lined with gold ornaments, hallways of mirror-like stone floors. Passing through rooms with shining chandeliers, pillars of sculpted marble, every last detail carved into stone or shaped from gold. He had heard that European monarchs and emperors lived lavishly, with riches beyond compare, but aside from a single visit to London some many years ago, this was the first time he truly saw the grandeur that was associated with Europe's power. He also had a sense that it was perhaps meant to intimidate, show that one country's monarch was richer and greater than another's.

And in a sense, Alfred was intimidated. He was a newly formed nation, and he could already feel that the established government was weak. And here, he was standing in the majestic palace of one of the greatest leaders in Europe, basically pleading for some assurance of aid.

Arriving into a sumptuously decorated room, he was told that Dana's room was just next door for convenience.

The two were left into the room, and Dana turned to Alfred.

"That went better than I had hoped," he stated.

"Yeah, it looks like she might consider helping us, doesn't it?" Alfred asked.

"It could, yes. Although nothing is ever certain when dealing with Europeans, and we've both had our fair share enough to know that." Dana looked at Alfred momentarily. "How about you now get some rest, and then we'll attend dinner and try to sort this out, hm?" With that, he went to his room.

He was left to settle into the room, and wait until dinner was announced. The bed looked very soft and welcoming, and so he decided he might as well get some rest and seem refreshed in front of the country and his leader at dinner. He took off his black shoes, the tailored coat and waistcoat he was wearing, before settling on his back on the bed. He thought of the ruler and of the Empire he had just met.

His clothes were by no means cheap, but because of the war in his country they were not luxurious either. And in no way did they compare to what the two Easterners had been wearing. The Empress had worn an ornate yellow, almost golden, dress, with a light blue sash from one shoulder to the waist. Attaching it had been a silver broach, embedded with diamonds, similar in style to the necklace that adorned her neck and the light crown on her head. The Empire (for the life of him, Alfred couldn't remember let alone attempt to pronounce his name), had looked as intimidating as any Empire in his formal military-like wear. The dark military jacket with golden epaulettes he had worn was covered with different types of medals, from simple silver circles to stars. A similar sash, this time red, had gone underneath those medals and the jacket's belt. His hand had been resting on a sword - whether it was decorative or real, Alfred wasn't sure he'd like to know. Around his neck had been an almost white scarf, only delicately dusted with a tinge of light pink. It was more noticeable at the edges of the scarf, as if the tint had not originally been there.

His eyes were a piercing violet, and had seemed to look so deeply into Alfred - as if trying to figure him out through and through. It was as if the man had expected Alfred to be afraid, but the American felt more curiosity than fright towards the other nation. After all, such a powerful Empire and old nation must have seen so much, Alfred was bound to be interested in him. There was also something else, but he wasn't quite sure what. It was different from what he had seen with Arthur, with Francis, with Gilbert or with Antonio, a different kind of aura. He wasn't quite sure what it was, though.

He lay on the bed, his mind drifting from this to that, and by the time supper was announced he had not caught a wink of rest. He straightened his clothes, before putting the waistcoat, coat and his shoes back on. Once out the door, he saw a servant ready to direct them to wherever dinner would be served. A second later, Dana came out the door and they set off. They were led to a dining room, as ornate as any other room in the palace. The paintings on the walls had golden frames, the ceiling was decorated with images lined with gold, the chairs were of light yellow plush. The table had room for about sixteen people, and Catherine and the Empire were not yet in the room. Alfred and Dana were seated at opposite sides of the table. The table was set for ten, so Alfred assumed that there would be Imperial statesmen joining them. It would not surprise him, as this was still a semi-formal visit of representatives of one country to another.

The moment the Empress and her nation walked in, followed by six men (Counts, Dukes, Alfred wasn't sure, he had no real idea how to distinguish Russian nobility ranks), both Americans stood in greeting.

"Please, have a seat," the Empress bid. The Eastern nation and his ruler sat at opposite ends of the table, so Dana and Alfred were midway between both of them and settled between two Russians. Food was served, and they began eating. The Russians spoke between each other in Russian, so neither American had any idea as to what was being said. However, when the Empress spoke, all statesmen went silent.

"Tell me, Mr. Jones," she started. Alfred looked up at her. "What kind of alliance or understanding do you seek to achieve with the Russian Empire by coming here, unannounced and unexpected?"

Alfred paused for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "We... we seek only to find out whether or not the Russian Empire plans to join forces with the British Empire in the war, whereby it would be at war with our country."

A statesman made a comment in Russian, and the others laughed quietly. Alfred ventured that it was aimed at the idea that they form an alliance with the British.

"If that is what you wish to know, Mr. Jones, I can assure you that the Russian Empire has no plans to aid your colonial power in any shape or form in this war. We are to remain neutral in this matter."

"Thank you, your Highness, that is very reassuring news to hear. After all, while we are fighting one major power, having two opposing us may prove fatal to the United States of America." Alfred paused.

Dana spoke. "In that case, your Highness - that is, if you have no wish to join with Britain in the war - we could find an agreement in terms of trade, for example. The Russian Empire is one of our main trade partners, and has been so for decades. I am of the opinion, as far as I can tell, that continuing trade between our two countries would be beneficial for both sides."

"The Russian Empire will remain neutral in this war, you understand. Therefore we cannot land on American soil and trade directly with your country."

"We understand perfectly, our only concern is that Russian goods be still made available for Americans, and vice versa." The Empress simply nodded in understanding, not offering much further development.

"What about peace talks?"

At this, both Americans looked slightly confused. "Your Highness," Alfred said. "We are still in the midst of war with Britain, and the Empire is determined to end this war in one way - complete surrender of American forces to the Empire, and therefore continuity of colonial rule. I'm afraid that it is too early to even think of peace talks for the moment."

The Empress nodded. "I understand that. However, if ever in the future you should be in need of a mediator once negotiations begin, know that the Russian Empire is available for that purpose. We have dealt with Britain before, and know that it is hard to cut any sort of agreement with them. We are ready to help you in seeking a pact to settle the conflict, should you need any."

"Thank you very much, your Highness." Alfred fell silent for a minute, before continuing - uncertainty had edge its way into his voice, and despite the mature manner with which Alfred had so far approached all matters, the other men were reminded of the youth of the nation once more with the hesitation of his words. "And... as the United States of America declared their independence as its own, sovereign country, there is the matter of being recognised as such in the international community. We... were wondering..." He trailed off, unsure of how to end his sentence.

The Empress looked at the older nation, before addressing the American once more. "The Russian Empire does not yet recognise the United States of America as a sovereign country, Mr. Jones. Once any form of peace is settled and the outcome of the war decided, then will the Empire do so - if the outcome is the loss of British forces."

Alfred had the good sense not to look downtrodden or disappointed - he had been expecting this outcome since his arrival. However, what with how the talks had been going so far, he had gained some hope. But it seemed it was still too early to think of such matters, and so he settled with that answer. The rest of the dinner went by with Dana speaking more in depth about trade and its finer details, and Alfred switching between listening intently to that conversation and trying to understand the occasional Russian that was spoken at some points around the table. Afterwards, the Empress, the Empire, the two Americans and the other six statesmen moved to a salon for more free-form speaking. As Dana was soon settled deep into conversation with the Empress and two statesmen, Alfred was left to stand awkwardly to the side. He noticed someone coming his way, and upon turning he saw that it was the Imperial nation himself. He straightened his posture as the older nation came to stand in front of him.

"Good evening, we... uh, haven't spoken yet, have we?" Alfred asked, slight nervosity in his voice. Despite not being scared of the other nation, he was still quite imposing to stand in front of. Especially seeing as Alfred was about two heads shorter than the Russian, and multiple centuries younger. "I'm Alfred Jones, as you may know, but I didn't quite catch your name?" He said awkwardly.

"I am Ivan Braginsky," the other said, giving the shorter nation a polite smile. "That was quite impressive, how you spoke with my ruler just now. I am surprised, really - I have known greater nations who were not as confident as you were when addressing her. It is also fairly interesting how well spoken you are, and how deeply you know of affairs between my country and yours."

Alfred gave a small smile, taking it as a compliment. "I, uh, before I came here, I made sure to know everything there was to know about my trade, my alliances and agreements and what nations wanted what - after Russia, we are to visit other European powers. We need all the help we can get, and that's what we're here for."

"Though my Empire will remain neutral, what Empress Catherine said, I reiterate: we are willing and at your disposition to act as mediators once talks of peace are laid on the table. And though the United States have not yet been recognised, rest assured that you are welcome here any time you so wish."

Alfred smiled a bit more, feeling slightly more at ease. "Thank you, very much - that's... thank you." He doesn't know what to say, he's just glad he's finally met another country aside from the few he knew - and he didn't seem all that bad. They engage in conversation, keeping the topic light and casual.

At the other end of the room, the Empress looked around in search for her country, but found him with the younger nation. "Well, Mr. Dana," she said, a glint in her eye, "it seems our nations will have no problem getting along at the least."

At this, Dana turned to see what the leader was referring to. "Oh, yes, well that is a relief. It is good that they are clearly finding good conversation to be made with each other."

"Indeed. It seems that this is the beginning of a good and long alliance, wouldn't you say?"

"I perhaps would say that, yes, your Highness."

* * *

 _Historical notes:_

 _\- American and Russian relations can be considered to have really started in 1776, though there had been occurrences when Russians interacted with Americans - Peter the Great and William Penn met in London in 1698, and an American ship once stopped in Kronstadt in 1763. Russians had been trading with Americans, despite the mercantilism imposed by the British Empire (wherein America's trade was reserved to Britain solely)._

 _\- Vasiliy Grigoryevich Lizakevitch was a Russian ambassador in London, who wrote a letter to Imperial statesman Count Nikita Ivanovich Panin. The letter arrived on August 13, 1776, and described the news of America having declared independence from the British Empire. Though it is not said when the news exactly reached Catherine the Great, I would say soon after the arrival of the letter. The Empress, very unfavorable to the British Empire, held the British former colonists at fault due to their failed colonial policies. She also saw that an independent America may be more in favour of Russian interests than a British colony. Despite not offering explicit alliance with the newly formed United States of America, the Russian Empire continued trade with America throughout the war. The Empire recognised American independence in the Treaty of Paris, which concluded the War of Independence._

 _\- Francis Dana was an American lawyer and statesman, who became the first unofficial American ambassador to the Russian Empire. Unofficial, as he never gained recognition from Catherine the Great as an ambassador. Posted in Russia until 1983, Russia recognised American independence later in the year after Dana was recalled back from the Empire due to his failure of getting Russia to recognise America prior to the forming of a treaty. Catherine refused to officially receive an ambassador to a country that had not yet been acknowledged as one. In my mind, it made sense that he would be the one to accompany Alfred to his first visit to Russia, despite only becoming "ambassador" four years later._

 _\- The British did have very much to offer to the Russian Empire in exchange for an alliance in the war: the British tried to negotiate and bribe their way into an alliance, offering to Russia the islands of Minorca even. Despite how advantageous this would have been to the Russian Empire, Catherine the Great refuse the bribe solely due to her dislike of the British._

 _\- The descriptions of the palace in which this chapter takes place are descriptions of images of the Catherine Palace in St. Petersburg from Google Images. Catherine's dress is inspired by some of the dresses I found on Google, and seems contemporary of her time. Ivan's clothes are inspired by 's art on Tumblr, the piece "Песня о Игореве" on Pixiv by 灰泽_ _, Google Images of imperial wear, and cidershark's Imperial Ivan on Tumblr. Alfred's clothes are modelled on late 1700s men's wear based on Google search results._

 _\- The Russian Empire, though they did not take part in the war, were very important otherwise as influence in American independence. They kept trading with America (indirectly, because of Russia's neutrality), and Russia acted as mediator in peace talks. However, they did not recognise America as an independent country before the signing of the Treaty of Paris, in which Britain admitted loss of the war and recognised the USA as independent._

 _A/N: I found it extremely hard to even begin this. Portraying a young Alfred was a challenge (because I cannot see him as anything else but how I portray him usually), plus portraying his and Ivan's early, awkward relationship was also really complex - their conversation's beginning is giving me a headache. Damn, I'm giving myself a hell of a challenge with this one, aren't I? But that's good, at least I get to do a whole character arc with Alfred, a whole relationship arc with Al and Ivan, and a whole historical plotline with both cinnamon rolls (who are not anywhere near cinnamon rolls, they're sinnamon rolls if anything)._

 _This chapter was rather short compared to what I'm planning on future chapters being, but it was only the first chapter so it really is still in its beginning phases. I will mostly make only one year per chapter (but there may be decades' skips in between those chapters). Although, the closer we get to modern history the closer together chapters will be, because of the fact that there is far more information on 20th century anecdotes than there is about American and Russian relations in 1776. Which is a shame, seeing how much information has been lost. And then there's our generation, recording every fancy lunch we eat._

 _Anyway, until next time!_


	3. So It Began

Watch out for language at the author's notes. And, to top that off, I am in no way an expert on the grammar, ways of speech, or vocabulary of the 18th century. All I had going for me is two years of English Lit and whatever help Google could provide.

* * *

So It Began

Yorktown, USA, September 29, 1781

" _Au nom de Dieu,_ Alfred!"

Alfred jumped up from his position where he had been casually leaning against a tree, rifle slung over a shoulder. He whirled around at the sound of the thick French accent, only to face the blue-eyed glare of a Frenchman. Alfred stood silently, waiting for the earful he had a feeling he would soon get.

"The fact that Steuben or Gilbert are not here does _not_ mean you get to slack off on cleanliness!" The annoyance and irritation were extremely obvious. Alfred hadn't even known Francis would be coming over today, and it was still dark - he had spent the previous night sleeping under the stars, so he wasn't in the mood for early morning (more like late-night) telling off.

 _Oh, so it's the same old._

"I didn't-"

"Yes, yes you have. I don't know if you're here to defeat an Empire or get a disease, because by the state of your camp, it most certainly does not look like the former! What has _everyone_ with even a bit of military training told you?"

"To keep my camp clean, because otherwise I have no chance?"

"At least your memory seems to work," Francis grumbled. He awaited for Alfred to do something, which he did not. "Well? Tell your men to clean up, and then we're going to pay _Général_ Washington and _Lieutenant-Général le Comte de Rochambeau_ a small visit."

"Oh, right, straight away," Alfred said, before quickly hurrying to one man he saw standing around. He put on his best kind-of-authoritative voice, which he really still needed to work on. "Brown, the camp's a mess and, uh... and we're at war, not trying to catch a disease! Clean this mess up before General Washington sees this!" He turned on his heels and walked back to Francis, who looked downright amused.

"Were you trying to imitate your betters and elders?" He asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. Alfred glared, not gracing the comment with an answer. Luckily for him, it was too dark for his facial expression to be seen. "Let's go, we have a lot to speak about."

"Right," Alfred said simply before following Francis into Washington's tent - where he and Rochambeau (he wasn't sure whether that was just his title or his actual name) were already deep in the midst of discussion, hunched over a large map of the area they were in. At their entrance, both men looked up.

"Ah, Alfred, Francis, good to have you here, there's a lot to speak about. What is our standing on armaments?"

Francis immediately advance to the table, and Alfred followed. He was not a master in the art of war in any way, shape or form, and that was why he was standing there - to learn.

"Antonio managed to raise some astounding 500,000 pesos in Cuba, which he has sent us. It has helped a great deal in arming our troops better. Furthermore, he is helping Gilbert cause some trouble down south, which is advantageous for us - not so much for the British."

"Too many enemies, indeed," the French count chuckled.

"And your troops?" Washington asked.

"On the other side of the city, we are at the ready."

"Good, that is very good. We move at dawn."

Alfred did a double-take. Dawn? They were moving in?

"We're what?"

At this, all three men turned to the youngster. "We move in on Yorktown in a matter of hours," Washington stated simply.

"We're actually besieging?" He asked. They had been here only a few days, and he was surprised they had gathered enough strength and were organised enough to move in.

"Why did you think I asked you to get your men cleaned up and ready?"

 _I don't know about ready,_ Alfred thought. But it all made some kind of sense.

"I should probably get ready and tell people to do that, shouldn't I?" Alfred asked.

"Unless you want to hear the rest of the plan?" Rochambeau asked.

Alfred smiled sheepishly. "I don't think I'm qualified enough to make any kinds of judgements on any plans you make, I think I'll be of more use gathering everything and getting it all organised."

Francis nodded. "As you please, after all, this is your war, Alfred."

 _My war indeed,_ was the thought in Alfred's mind as he left the tent to find, awaken, and organise his troops. He had a feeling it would be a long day.

He grabbed a passing soldier, who looked dazed and confused so early in the morning. Giving an order to get the men up and ready, he sent him on his way and did the same to all he could find. When most were dressed and standing at attention, he corrected stances and uniforms as best he could. But once the three men that had been in the tent walked out, he saw the look in their eyes. Francis approached Alfred. He eyed the troops a moment, before looking at Alfred (who was shifting uncomfortably on his feet).

"To be completely honest," he started with a glint in his eye, "I am surprised that a tyro like you could actually get his troops ready to go in such a short while." He smiled, appearing somewhat impressed, even. "Maybe you'll grow into a fine soldier someday."

Alfred seemed relieved. He had expected some sort of comment on the state of his men, who apparently were presentable.

"Rochambeau and I are leaving, and so I must bid you good luck with the march today. Once we reach our camp, we will join the battle. Let us only hope that you shan't nee that much of our help, no?"

Alfred chuckled, his eyes moving from Francis to the other French leader, and then to his own commander. "Let us hope so, yes."

Francis looked at him one last time. "Good luck, Alfred." He turned to join Rochambeau, and after exchanging a few words with Washington, they took up horses and left.

Washington then headed towards Alfred and the men, looking over the company. "Good job, Alfred," he said, before addressing the group. "Men, we move at sunrise towards Yorktown. The British have holed themselves up in there, and we shall drive them out of there." Alfred looked at the sky, and saw it was gaining a lighter purple shade by the minute. "Hence, get your horses and on we go!"

Alfred's head snapped back down, and he followed Washington to get his horse. It wasn't long before they were saddled up and ready to move out and into the battlefield.

* * *

October 15, 1781

Sinking back down, his hands clumsily tried to find the jam in his weapon. He was resisting the urge to curse the entire situation to hell and back, because he needed to focus. Some of their cannons had been spiked, and while he wasn't in charge of them it reduced their firepower. He would have loved to have been awake on the moment to catch sight of Arthur if he had been there, maybe take a shot at him. Sadly, it had all happened before he was awake, and he was left to fire cover until the cannons were cleaned and fixed.

He peeked above the parallel they had dug, trying to catch sight of a soldier to shoot at. He found it odd, how little killing bothered him - it probably should have been disturbing, especially from the accounts he had heard men tell. But Arthur had said nations were different from humans. It was most likely because a nation lived so long and saw so much death in their lifetime, that they were not so affected by it.

He heard laughter to his right, and whipping in the direction of the sound he saw Washington with a soldier, both seemingly in a good mood.

Now, Alfred might have been a barely decent soldier, but he knew that there was very little to laugh about during a war - unless it had been won. He headed in their direction.

"What's happening?"

Washington turned to him, a relatively pleased look on his face. "Oh, Alfred, I'm glad to have caught you. The cannons have been repaired and full firepower restored."

Alfred seemed relieved, at least now they were able to fire back better. "That's good to hear." He paused for a moment before turning back to the subject he had come to ask about. "Why were you laughing?"

"We seem to have competition," Washington announced, and Alfred blanched.

"What? Who? Has someone joined the war? Why would they, has Arthur convinced them to join his side? Oh, God, what if it's the Russians, is it th-"

"Dear Lord, Alfred, calm down. It is nothing of the sort. Look over there," Washington said, pointing to another flank of the city, where the French could barely be seen firing at the city. "What is it you see?"

He hesitated. "I see the French, sir?" He tried to come up with something, uncertain of what the other man meant.

"But what are they doing?"

Alfred concentrated, not really noticing anything. "I don't see what you mean, they're firing a rather extravagant amount... at..." It dawned on him. "Are they challenging us?"

"Indeed they are! It seems to have mounted to a competition as to who causes more trouble for the British, now. How intent are you upon winning that contest?"

Alfred let out a small laugh. "I might be a bit of a colt, but I am not letting Francis beat me!"

Washington laughed. "That's the spirit, Alfred."

* * *

October 19, 1781

The inside of the tent was rather bare, only one table adorning the centre of the room. A few men were grumbling amongst themselves around the table, staring at the paper spread in front of them.

Surrender.

One man stood at the entrance of the tent, two at the opposite end.

The lone man's green eyes were blazing, a vicious fire lit in them. His appearance was that of a defeated Empire. His stature was pristine, his posture perfect, his upper lip curled in a barely-there sneer, trying to contain contempt and anger. Eyes set from stone, they glared at the paper on the table. But his red uniform was soiled, tarnished with dirt and darker stains of red - blood of his men, blood of enemies, it was all mixed. A cut adorned his right cheek, shallow but still new and badly cleaned. His formerly white wig was dishevelled, almost ashen with soot. A stiff composure, denying defeat. Every bit the man whose control Alfred had so long wanted to escape.

The men at the other end of the tent watched the situation in front of them, the muttering of those around the table, the silent Empire.

At a point, the men around the table straightened up, their signatures imprinted on the paper, a blatant sign of defeat, of loss. They filed quietly out of the tent, leaving the three nations inside it. A leaden silence fell around them, and a seething, pulsating anger could almost be felt. Finally, the green eyes shifted upwards, as if seeing for the first time the two others. His blank gaze met a prideful, young blue one.

He let out a derisive huff. "I never imagined this from you, boy. The gall you have to commit something as treacherous as this!" He took a steady breath, as if to reign in the scathing words that threatened to spill. Francis could feel Alfred beginning to fidget beside him, whether it be from anger or nervosity he did not know. "After years of protecting this forsaken land, of raising you, of doing everything for you - how _dare_ you?"

Alfred moved as if to say something in retaliation, his expression dark and promising, but Francis put an arm out to hold him back. Alfred's eyes remained glued to the Empire, but he backed down. Francis then looked at the Empire, who in turn shifted his eyes to the Frenchman with a snort.

"And yet, you obey Francis like a dog his master. Tell me, how many of his battle plans did you follow? How many orders of his have you taken? How much does your victory rely on him? If it weren't for the situation, I would find this almost amusing. You seek independence, and yet cannot achieve it by yourself. Oh, but Francis, I know you. What is he paying you back with? There is little you would ever do for another nation out of generosity. Hence - is he paying you sums he cannot cover? Is he promising you a forlorn piece of land? Or is he keeping your bed warm? By now, were I told these, I would find very little surprise within myself. It seems he cares not for ethics or morals or propriety."

Francis sighed, amusement lighting his eyes. "Trust me, the only reason I do this is to find your humiliation and demise. If and when Alfred drives you out, you will once again be the laughing stock of Europe, and I cannot wait to stand once more at festivities, discussing how the mighty and faultless British Empire failed to keep his hands on a colony too unruly for him. A colony he so often prided himself upon, a colony he never noticed he had treated worse than winter treats Ivan."

The Empire snorted. "Say what you will, Francis, but know that even if this folly succeeds, and Alfred indeed becomes his own nation, he cannot and will not last long. Be it a year or ten years, he'll find himself falling short of trading partners, of organisation. He'll be living in a country ruled by chaos and disorder. His government is already weak, crumbling on itself! Mark my words," he turned to the American. "You will be grovelling for pity and help before you've even established yourself successfully. You will fail. And once you do, expect no aid from me. I don't need a self-righteous, deluded, remiss boy begging for pity. You've had all you needed from me, and decided it wasn't enough." He laughed. "With held breath, I wait that you show me how independent you are, boy." With that, he left the tent, the fabric swishing as he flung it aside.

Alfred released the breath he had been holding. Francis looked at him. "Welcome to the world of politics, Alfred."

Alfred fell silent, his eyes still trained on the flap of the tent, before hearing drums outside the tent. Francis led the way out, where red-coated soldiers were dropping their weapons. And it was finally that reality sank into Alfred.

"I did it," he uttered, as if the words might shatter the sight. Francis turned to him. "I really did beat him."

Francis chuckled. "Not so fast, tyro. You've won the battle, not the war. But, I daresay that is not a faraway prospect either."

Alfred looked to the defeated soldiers, a proud smile on his face. He had a feeling the nickname might just stick.

* * *

Paris, France, September 3, 1783

Alfred hopped eagerly from one foot to another, anxious to see the day. He was dressed and ready for the peace conference, and there was something of a nervosity mulling in him. After all, he had never been at the signing of a peace treaty, and after what felt like years of negotiations for peace, Americans and British alike had come to an agreement on the terms. And he would be officially signing his independence today.

He was the first to arrive in the room where the papers would be signed, but he was soon joined by other nations who had come to meet or congratulate the newest member of the international community. The peace had not yet been signed, and he had spoken with more nations than ever before. Even though the only signatories were the United States and the British Empire, many a nation had come to recognise his independence.

About an hour later, the British Empire himself walked into the room, members of his government with him. His face held a sour expression, as if deigning to be here. It was over very fast, and once the American and British representatives had signed the paper, Britain strode to Alfred, his chin held high up and one hand placed on the decorative sword that was part of his crisp new uniform. He stopped before the younger nation, stiffly extending a hand. Alfred looked at it for a moment before tentatively shaking it. The Empire took his hand back to himself quickly, and marched out of the room without further ado.

In his mind, Alfred was grumbling curses at the back of his former caretaker, but his mind was quickly derailed from that bitter stewing to the others congratulating him on his newly acquired freedom.

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert had quickly come to greet him (and praise each one's own self, and each other, for their outstanding and generous part in the achievement). He met a number of nations he had never heard of before, or had someday heard the name but remembered it only vaguely. At one point, he found Matthew in the crowd, who looked as if he were trying to go unnoticed.

"Matthew! Over here!" Alfred shouted, trying to get his brother to notice him. He knew the issue of the war had been complex for the representative of the northern territories, what with the invasion of southern parts of Canada, and the fact that he was currently shared between France and England. Alfred wasn't sure he wanted to imagine the situation his brother was facing. Matthew turned around and saw southern brother heading towards him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, but as for you - congratulations on your independence, I know how much you wanted it." Matthew smiled, and Alfred let slide the halfheartedness of his words.

"Thanks, I can barely believe it myself. And I've seen the treaty itself, but it still kind of doesn't feel completely real." Alfred smiled. "Really, how are things with you? I know that it's complicated up there, what with... both of them,..."

Matthew shrugged. "It... it is what it is. I can't say I'm displeased with the way I'm treated by either of them, really," he said, his tone having a slight edge to it.

Alfred held back a frown. "You're not angry with me, are you?"

Matthew sighed. There was a shadow of a frown on his youthful face, so much like Alfred's yet so different. "No. I'm not... I'm not angry with you. All I am trying to do is to avoid taking sides. I know both France and Britain want me to pick a side, and I know you find I should seek independence. As I want to avoid any unnecessary action, and my people are happy, I'm not picking a side."

Though he didn't take a step, Alfred seemed to draw back from his brother. "I understand. The people come first."

Matthew smiled. "Yes, they do. Congratulations once again on your fre- independence." Alfred caught onto the slip-up. He was sure that Arthur had ranted in Matthew's earshot about how Alfred had never been imprisoned or any such thing, and hence 'freedom' was not a word that fit the situation. But Alfred smiled as he noticed someone else coming along his way.

"Thanks again," he said before turning to walk in the other nation's direction. He remembered the man from a few years back, and had a polite smile on his face. "Mr. Braginsky, it's good to see you again," he said, peering up at the taller man.

Ivan noticed that the American was taller now than he had been the last time they had met, and it was no surprise - he was a growing nation that had just gained independence, and therefore would still grow for who knew how long. "Indeed, Mr. Jones, it is. And it is good to see that this time it is as equals, no?"

Alfred smiled pridefully. "Yeah, it is," he said. "I hope that the Russian Empire would be willing to trade with the United States of America now that the peace has been signed?"

"I believe that there is something of an agreement to be reached on that front, yes. Your nation has now been recognised by a majority. And to add to that, it seems you have shown the great British Empire his true worth."

"I can't say he didn't have it coming. It was a great help, the amount of enemies he's made that were willing to help me."

Ivan looked at the American curiously. "It will be interesting to see what becomes of you. It would be safe to assume that Britain, ah... gave you a speech?"

Alfred huffed. "Saying how I wouldn't survive a decade? Believe you me, he most certainly did. But there's very little I would not do to prove him wrong."

"You have ambition, that is clear. It remains to be seen whether there is strength behind that will, Mr. Jones."

"I think I'll just have to make it clear that there is, then." Alfred smiled, an expression that reminded him of other nations' smiles - Yao, Arthur, probably he himself had sported the same expression. It hid a willpower beyond compare, a complex mind whose gears whirred incessantly. But perhaps it was just a trick of the light, as the smile looked innocent, gentle a mere second later. "Call me Alfred, I don't like Mr. Jones. Both makes me feel old, and it's so impersonal."

Ivan found himself intrigued once more by the new nation. "Call me Ivan, then."

"Alright, Ivan," Alfred smiled, bright as the shining day outside.

* * *

 _Historical notes_

 _\- Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben was a Prussian officer who served as Inspector General to the colonials during the American Revolutionary War, meaning he taught the Continental Army basic military drills, tactics and disciplines. This was because Americans had never been involved in a major war of their own, some people only being involved overseas with the British. And even then there hadn't been that many - and the army consisted therefore mainly of people who had little to no military knowledge._

 _\- The siege of Yorktown was decisive victory for the Continental Army. The battle was fought both on land and at sea. The British locked themselves up into the city of Yorktown under the command of Cornwallis, and George Washington and Count Rochambeau flanked the city on both sides and attacked it therefore at multiple points. A month earlier, the British fleet there had been defeated by the French one - the Brits had underestimated the size of the French fleet drastically. The Allies had increasingly large amounts of weapons, and the British fire began falling silent when they saw this. The Spanish, though not directly involved in the battle, sent funds to the Allies present to buy weapons and other necessities that were, at one point, running short. To be honest, the British had made a lot of enemies, and this was an obvious show of that fact._

 _\- "Tyro" and "colt": both basically mean "newbie" or "rookie" in a sense. However, the first one has a Latin origin, while "colt" is much more British. Hence, I figured Francis would probably use tyro more, seeing as Latin was once the language he spoke on a daily basis, while Alfred had been brought up by Britain and would hence use the British equivalent. Because the word rookie didn't exist. And I had to look this up with Google Ngram Viewer (which is pretty useful if you're looking up the amount of use of a word throughout the times). Additionally, in terms of language, writing with such propriety, such decorum is so hard I mean no-one speaks like that any more. All I have as basis are old texts I find on the web and this one book I had to study for English Literature whose still is really old. Hence, my sentence structure feels awkward, the vocabulary off, the order of wording just not there, but it's the best I can do. Once Alfred is more his own country and we move further towards modern times, it will become less awkward. Hopefully._

 _\- The British, at one point, "spiked" or plugged American cannons, but managed to do only six before they were caught and driven back. After that, the French and American troops engaged into a friendly competition to see who could cause the Brits more damage._

 _\- The Paris Peace was signed in 1783 between Britain and America, ratifying certain terms of peace between the two nations - but most importantly, American independence._

 _\- Canada, at this time, was split between Britain and France, areas belonging to each colonizer. The territories were invaded at a point during the war, but it did not last long and resulted in mostly British and American deaths. However, Americans also held the feeling Canadians should seek their own independence, and refuse British/French rule._

 _Translations:_

 _au nom de Dieu -_ (French) in the name of God

 _général -_ (French) here, means the rank of General

 _lieutenant-général le Comte de Rochambeau -_ (French) Lieutenant General, Count of Rochambeau (Count acting as Lieutenant-General)

 **A/N:** I find it odd to write Lieutenant in English seeing as I pronounce it "Leftanant" (non-native English-speaker, but I learnt English at a British school).

Damn, this characterisation and character building is proving interesting as an author. Basically starting with a blank canvas, I need to build Alfred's character up into the superpower he is today - because in my opinion he most certainly is not the happy-go-lucky half-wit idiot he is usually portrayed as. Instead, I imagine him much more as a kind of vicious, calculating, almost hegemonic leader of the world, seeking more his own ambitions which are painted as "for the good of the world". Kind of makes him an asshole, too. I basically now have the choice, do I make his deviousness relatively clear to the world, or do I hide that behind the curtain of idiot? I mean either I have the choice to make it clear to the world he cannot be fucked with, he knows exactly what he is doing, but yet he makes himself up as the "better choice" (but he knows he's being observed, watched by the other nations, and that he knows he's maintaining a careful rule based on intimidation, fear, admiration and alliances), or to make a character with an extremely multi-faceted personality that clearly splits in half, but which would be for him much harder to control (but which would make his side of the argument much more believable, acceptable and perhaps drawing-in). I think I might go for the first one, but all opinions are appreciated!

Plus, if you like this story or have something to say about it, I would very much appreciate all comments and reviews! Also, follows and favourites warm my heart and show me that people really do want to read this.

Until next time!


	4. Light A Fire

**A/N: This is important.** This fic is, for the moment still, set in the past. All of the events depicted for the moment are history, and yes - though some are less pretty than others, it is history. **This fic is _not_ a humorous fic**, it is **not a parody, nor a satire** of any kind. I go into the politics, mechanisms, the whats and the whys because they give this fic a depth that I need to create context, atmosphere, basis for characterisation. It is neither meant to be fun, nor does it reflect my personal political opinions. This will get darker as we go along, because it is a historical RusAme fic with both dark America and Russia.

However - I also am facing a problem. As this fic will progress nearer to today, and beyond, there is the issue of whether or not to portray current events, and in what way. For the moment, **I have decided not to depict the events of 2016** \- because I know they affect a lot of people, and as they are still very fresh they are in no way funny. Things such as Brexit, Trump's elections and things like this have caused much argument around the entire world, and have deeply affected people's lives. I am not dismissing them as insignificant, or unworthy of mentioning - I am giving them the respect they deserve and should be given. **As for sensitive topics (WWII, terror attacks before 2016)** , I will deal with them in a **serious manner** \- **they are not jokes**. I will deal with them as they deserve and give them the respect they deserve. _However,_ some opinions that certain characters/countries will have **do not reflect my opinions and are solely based on historical facts.** I will give a sign as to when the fic goes imaginative, and where it is that I employ my own creativity to further the plot. But I am not dealing with events of 2016 onwards, because it is still so soon, and we have not even seen the full outcome of the events yet. As Hetalia is in its core humorous and satirical, I do not think it completely right to associate events that have caused such ripples around the world with something that is meant as a satire of stereotypes and politics. And once again, whatever political views I write into this story have nothing to do with my personal views. I try as best I can to keep it balanced, as each country had their own motives to do different things. I may get inspired by current events, and reflect some occurrences in my writing, but **I am not explicitly depicting these events.**

Thank you. And now, after all that serious talk about politics and current affairs, here is the long-awaited chapter!

* * *

Light A Fire

August 24, 1814

He had, for some time, entertained the idea of peace and independence, of a clear conscience and happy life. For some time. He had met new countries faster than he could remember their names, his trade had flourished, and he had built steamboats and railroads – better than any before. He had built bridges between himself and other nations, forged alliances and friendships, built himself something of a name (of course, most who knew him only remembered him as the child who defeated the Empire). Of course, there had been a few hitches along the road – some greater than others. The only problem was, most – if not all of these grievances – were really only the fault of the British Empire.

Arthur, still seemingly bitter about his defeat decades ago, and how waging war once more on his age-old enemy, had taken it upon himself to take it out on his former colony. Alfred had been met with trade restrictions, impressment of his merchants into the _British_ navy, the support of the British for the Native American tribes that Alfred's westernmost settlers had to fight at his border. Not to mention an insulting incident that had occurred some five years earlier – and the following economic warfare that had lasted this long.

Right at this moment, Alfred could feel his bones vibrating with the overflowing outrage and anger that had now culminated with his second major war. If nothing more, it helped to draw thin the British Empire's resources. After all, warring against both France and America may just prove to be a great pain, as Alfred hoped it would. Arthur had been bitter, arrogant, disregarding of Alfred's national individuality, and just generally highly irritating in the last few decades. Alfred was near celebrating his fortieth, but here he was, holding a weapon close to his chest once again. But this time, it was not with the hesitation of a first-timer. He didn't claim he was an expert, but this was a war already fought – and one he had won before. This time, he would make sure that Britain remained where he belonged, far across the ocean.

And now, this war had already been going on for two years – which Alfred did not like in the least. He had hoped that if he declared war, it would be faster than the last time. Perhaps by then, Britain would have realised that Alfred had no desire to give unless he got. But at the moment, all he had was the sight before him and a fleeing government.

He was more than irritated by his defeat in Bladensburg, but he was now seeing the direct effect that had had: it left his capital open to British forces, while Madison and the rest of the government and its personnel were searching for refuge in Maryland. But he had remained behind, in the hopes of seeing what exactly the British had in mind for the city they had sought after for some time. He had twice nearly given away his position, from where he remained hidden to peer upon the enemy soldiers in his White House. He saw men go into and out of the building, always returning with more objects that had been in there. But as more and more went in and less came out, Alfred's brow furrowed. What in God's name were they doing? Looting a building should not take twenty men inside and five standing outside. It was a simple matter of carrying things, and he was not seeing anyone carrying anything.

And that's when he saw the thin, wispy smoke, pouring out from the windows and the doorway. The red-coated men came hurrying out from inside the house, and it took a moment for Alfred to really register what it was he was seeing in front of his eyes.

His White House.

The home of his government.

Burning.

Windows shattered in the heat and flames came crawling out to engulf more of the outside of the building. The white building was alight, the fire illuminating the nearby area – and Alfred. He had stood up, shock and anger taking over his whole being, but he couldn't move. His rifle was useless in his hands, his eyes held by the sight in front of him. He heard the shouts, but he didn't register the men heading towards him until he was grabbed by them and wrenched towards the burning building.

"What are you – let go of me! Let go of me, now! I demand that you release me right this moment! How dare you – how dare you burn down the White House? Who do you think-"

"They think they are my men, and they would be wholly correct in assuming that simple fact," came a cold, snappy voice. The men dragging Alfred finally stopped, and he was pushed forward – only to come face-to-face with the one nation he wanted to see least at the moment. There was the British Empire himself, standing proud and tall once more, his eyes blazing with arrogance and a smugness of victory. That look only fuelled Alfred's anger more, and it was all he could do not to punch the man in the jaw. He was still surrounded by armed enemies, and was not willing to earn himself a bullet through the head for it. His eyes flittered over the soldiers around him, and he caught the eyes of another nation.

Matthew was standing there, adorned in a red military coat and all, with ash dusting his shoulders. Their eyes locked for a moment – Matthew's were vengeful, and Alfred's were betrayed.

He could not believe that his own _brother_ would be involved in something so... so indescribable. Alfred resisted the want to huff, and turned his eyes back to the Empire in front of him.

"What, so now is a good time to _grace_ me with your presence, huh?" Alfred drawled, voice coated in sarcasm. "I'm worth it again, because I'm at war with you? Or what?"

Arthur seemed to find it somehow amusing, and his eyebrows arched derisively. "You have not changed in the least – still the stubborn, reckless boy you were four decades ago, aren't you? And you still look about the same, perhaps you've gained a year or two in appearance and a few inches of height. But you have not changed - certainly not in mind nor wisdom," Arthur snarled, a grimace twitching at his lips. "And yes, now that _you_ are at war with _me_ , I did deem it the perfect occasion to come and see your army's pathetic attempts at proving you a nation. Did I not tell you it would come to this? And look what a lovely bonfire we got from it, too!" Arthur laughed, but soon his expression turned bland once more as Alfred spoke.

"How would you like it if I sailed my way to England and burned London?"

"I've lived through that already, boy. There is little you could do to me that I have not seen once or more. Perhaps, if you were older and wiser, you would know that, too."

"Maybe if you weren't so focused on your own pride you would see past your nose! My government isn't even here any more, they've relocated. This isn't a victory, it's a show that you made it to my open capital. Congratulations – you had no resistance getting here!"

Arthur barked a laugh. "That would be because your army scurried off miles ago! And even though your sad excuse for a government has been relocated, that does not mean you can hold off. I will see to it personally, if I must, that the United States of America do not prevail as an independent nation." With that, he turned away and walked off.

"And I will see to it that it will!" Alfred shouted, before falling silent. His eyes were drawn to the burning building, and to Matthew who was standing some ways away, back turned to Alfred.

When Alfred turned and stormed off, no soldier tried to stop him.

London, British Empire, 3rd January, 1823

"Good Lord, Alfred, really, come to your senses – you _yourself_ have said – and made it rather clear – how you loathe European meddling on American soil, have you not?" Arthur reasoned. The youth was pacing on the other side of the mahogany desk, now littered with different papers.

"I know I have!" Alfred snapped, turning to the other man. "But tell me, what is it you're doing right now? Trying to meddle in my affairs! If this is exactly what you want me to join you on, why are you being such a hypocrite about it?"

"I am not being hypocritical, I am merely stating what in my mind seems obvious. No-one wants more colonisation in America, least of all you."

Alfred whirled around to face the Englishman. "No, least of all me – right after you, who don't like the fact that you haven't colonised the entire continent by this point, who don't like the fact that other nations have a better shot at it than you do, who don't like the thought of being overshadowed by any other country, any time."

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but his voice held contempt when he spoke. "If you're going to be your usual bratty self about it, I see no reason as to why this discussion should go along any longer than it already has."

"I came here for a reason, England, and it was not this! Monroe might think about your idea, but it has nothing to do with you whether or not we decide to go along with it. However, there's still the issue about you returning what you stole," Alfred finished, crossing his arms and glaring at the Empire. Arthur stood, collecting and arranging papers on the desk.

"Would you please specify somewhat what it is you are talking about?"

"My slaves!"

"I cannot pay you for something we did not steal!" Arthur huffed. "They either defected to my side, or were taken before the signing of the treaty."

"So, what? The territories I took before the signing, I can claim them back?"

Arthur took a breath, before thinking again about answering. He came across a suitable answer a moment later. "That is completely different and a whole other issue."

"That's just rich," Alfred snarled. "I say you owe me two million dollar's worth of private property, and that's a generous, downgraded amount from reality!"

"I do not have the money to pay you with, all government spending is aimed at other matters than some pieces of property."

"Some – so you're saying that all your money went into waging war? That's just great. Listen-"

"No, Alfred, you listen. I will not pay two million dollars of whatever you think is rightfully yours, but if it will make you shut up, I will pay half of that when I have the means to. Does that suit you?" Arthur sighed as he stacked papers and looked impatiently at the younger nation.

Alfred paused. "If that's the best I'm going to get, there isn't much I can do, is there? Ivan made the decision back in 1818 that that's how much you would pay, so I'm still wondering where the money is. I want my debts paid."

Arthur huffed. "I barely agreed to having him as a mediator! See how well that worked out for me? He was biased!"

Alfred snorted before leaving the well-furnished office. Arthur simply resorted to cursing the American and Ivan, the two nations and people to have caused him the most trouble in the last handful of decades. They seemed to be becoming something of a dreadful duo, and Arthur wasn't liking it – not one bit.

Arkansaw Territory, October 15, 1824

"Oh Jesus, I'm worn down," Alfred yawned, a drawn-out whine. He ungraciously dropped down and sprawled out into the grass, appreciating the feel of the sun on his face.

"At least it seems there is not much to do for you now," Ivan said, amusement in his eyes and voice. Alfred let out a content sigh.

"Good. I've had two wars too many and too many meetings with nations. I can't believe how old some of those people are!" Alfred said, eyes closed and facing the warmth of the sun.

"You realise I am as old as some of them, older than most?" Ivan quipped, happy to just stand around and look at the sights from the top of the hill.

"Oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "I mean, I meant that some people just act like they should be lying in bed with a quilt over their heads by now."

Ivan laughed. "I assume you are referring to Yao, are you not?"

"Tch, who else? He's way older than everyone else, he thinks I'm barbaric and uncivilised, and I don't have too high hopes for any political or economic relations with him for now. But anyway, I met a lot of other nations, some of them are willing to cooperate and open relations, some of them were..." He trailed off, unsure of the right word to use.

"Unique?"

Alfred snorted. "That would be one word for it." He sat back up, looking at the taller figure. "Why won't you sit down? It's a lovely day and we have no place to be."

"I shall accept that offer, then," Ivan smiled, and sat down on the grass with crossed legs. "Have you made any friends yet?"

Alfred's expression changed with those words, but he was still smiling. "Well, María down south seems pretty cool. She's nice, even though she's still struggling with settling a government – it's a bit of a mess, but I think she's not doing so bad. She's got a constitution now, so it's good." Alfred's smile turned sour. "I haven't spoken to Matthew in some time, other than some official business. I had half a mind to ban him from here forever."

Ivan nodded. "It's understandable. But Alfred, I suggest you not be too harsh on him. Your being bitter about the whole ordeal is perfectly in order, and it is natural that you feel some distrust for what happened, but you do not yet know how hard it is to find allies in times of real trouble." Alfred frowned and was about to retort, but Ivan cut him off. "In your war for your independence, France, Prussia and Spain were very pleased to help simply on the grounds that you were to show the British Empire a bit of humility. The entirety of Europe was more than glad for that. But in the last war, you had little need for allies – you refused to go look for them. Had Britain's army not been simultaneously tied up in the war against Napoleon as his main concern, you may have had to find a rather different strategy."

"But you were involved in the war, on the Coalition side, with Britain and Austria and Spain and a lot more people than Francis had?"

Ivan resisted the urge to smile. "You may find that European wars are not so simple. Initially, as war broke out, I was on France's side – but then I happened to change sides. I was not the only one, mind you – Prussia, the Turks, Sweden, the Persian Empire, even the Austrian Empire changed sides one way or another at some point in the war. Because it was fought just about on every single continent, it's one of the more complicated ones. It also depends on what Treaty was signed, what was sold, what territory given, and who bedded who."

Alfred sputtered, blushing wildly. "On – what?"

Now, Ivan laughed. "Did Arthur never tell you? Most European wars and sides depend on a multitude of factors – and one of the ways to forge an alliance is by-"

"I get it, I get it!" Alfred said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

Ivan looked at him with interest. "Have you never-"

"I – you – that's none of your business who I have or haven't – uhm – uh-"

"Bedded," Ivan finished for him. "No, you are right, it is none of my business to inquire such personal questions."

Alfred shifted. "I'm just glad I'm not European, it just sounds messy. You're all so old and weird."

"Even me?" Ivan said, a hint of humour in his voice.

Alfred look at him for a long time. "Well, maybe not you, but then again Arthur always thought you were odd."

Ivan laughed. "I've heard a few European countries' mention our closeness in worried tones."

"Maybe someday we can be the most powerful countries in the world, together, and show that to England and France and whoever," Alfred with grandeur.

"Perhaps we can. It would be interesting to see their faces then," Ivan replied amusedly.

"Oh – can you just imagine it? Arthur would look stricken, and Francis would just sniff because he's been personally offended."

They laughed heartily at the images in their minds.

"I'm happy we're friends," Alfred. "You'd be a terrifying enemy, and I don't want that."

Ivan's eyebrows lifted. "We are friends?"

Alfred frowned. "Well, yeah, I think so."

Ivan smiled broadly. "I'm glad. It's not been the most... social experience, being an Empire so far north and east of the other great powers. I have had my family, and Yao has been a good friend whenever I happen to meet him."

"Oh. That sounds lonely." Alfred brightened. "Don't worry, we'll be the greatest of friends!" He exclaimed, and fell back on the grass. It seemed really to be the beginning of a long friendship, in both their opinions.

* * *

 _Historical facts:_

 _I mentioned Matthew's vengefulness/Alfred's feelings of betrayal in the burning of the White House. American forces attacked Canada during the war to try and force it away from the hands of the Empire. But Americans were hoping to give Canada its independence and thus evict the Empire completely from the American continent._

 _The burning of the White House was officially done by the British, but it's generally said to be done by Canada especially in the fandom because a lot of Canadian troops were involved in the war. it didn't do any good to American-Canadian relations._

 _Oh boy, the war in Europe was messy. There really was a lot of changing of sides involved, the few remaining on their initial stances being Britain against France and Spain (there were a few others but those were minor countries compared to these powers). Russia for example, was on France's side until a treaty was signed and then France invaded Russia._ _Prussia, the Ottoman Empire, Sweden, the Persian Empire, and the Austrian Empire were other countries to switch sides during the war. It ended with the end of the First French Empire and the exile of Napoleon to Elba._

 _\- America gained a lot of territory from France in the Louisiana purchase, which would cause the "growth" mentioned. The territories were not officially organised, but were designated as "Louisiana District". Later became Missouri, Arkansas, Michigan, Wisconsin, etc. It was a whole lot of naming and renaming. "Arkansaw Territory" was one of the bits of what had previously been the Louisiana District, that had been designated and renamed and organised._

 _\- The Great Fire of London in 1666 was a fire that burned almost a hundred thousand homes. Death toll is unknown but thought generally to have been small._

 _\- The Monroe Doctrine basically was against European involvement in the Americas, but generally lacked credibility due to the U.S.'s lack of an effective navy._

 _\- The Treaty Of Ghent was the Treaty in 1818 was signed to end the war of 1812, and in it it was agreed that all territories should be returned to the owners before the war, and that Britain should return/pay for the "property" (slaves) it had taken. Russians offered, and Americans accepted (though the British were much less keen on doing so), to mediate the peace talks. I pulled the numbers out of my hat, I could find them nowhere, but I think I read it somewhere. There was a whole issue about the British not paying though, which is what this scene is about. Also about Arthur bitching about Ivan and Alfred's good terms._

 _\- Though official relations with China were not settled until 1844, I just decided to put it there that Alfred would have met with a bunch of countries to unofficially open relations. Better to get to know them a bit before being officially on talking terms. In 1844 though, a Chinese diplomat said this about Americans he dealt with:_

[The United States] is the most uncivilized and remote of all nations…[it] is in an isolated place outside the pale, solitary and ignorant. Not only are the people entirely unversed in the forms of edicts and laws, but if the meaning be rather deep, they would probably not even be able to comprehend. It would seem that we must make our words somewhat simple.

 _So I'll just assume the Chinese were not the biggest fans of Americans since the beginning._

 _\- Mexico (Maria) gained independence from Spain in 1821. After that, there was a lot of changing of governments, from the short-lasting "First Mexican Empire" to the Provisional Government in place in 1824. But by that time Mexico had a new constitution, and seemed to be kind of going in the right direction. It was a whole messy thing and the Wikipedia was also a bit confusing._

 _There is too much history in this chapter for me to put all of it into these notes, if there is anything you need more info on, either search with key terms on Wikipedia/history websites, or if you ask me I can direct you to the pages I used._

* * *

 **A/N:** Jeeeeeesus that ending was sappy. I know there isn't a whole lot of drama or violence or action yet, but I'm giving this quite a lighthearted start, because by this point Alfred is still rather the naive, innocent, new country. He's seen two wars already, and his expansion has only just started. So from this point onwards it's really more of a downhill in terms of happiness and uphill in terms of angst and dark and violence and everything else. I'll probably get to Manifest Destiny next chapter and the whole "sea to shining sea" and "Empire of liberty" deal - which ought to be so much fun, in reality. But first I had to build a kind of basis for the relationship and establish something of a character for Alfred, with the subtle hints of everything he'll be in the future (I hope they're visible enough?). But anyway, I had originally planned to make this chapter a whole lot longer, but it was actually too long so I had to cut it. I'm getting really into writing this now, but busy life means not a lot of time to write every day. I try to get these chapters up and done as fast as I can, but the problem is I have both this, MAD and prompts that I also work on. At least it doesn't get monotone, and my imagination runs wild.

Anyway, that's all I had to say this time, I would love to hear feedback (hint hint)! Thank you for reading, and until next time!


	5. Sea To Shining Sea

A/N: I know, I know I jump a lot from event to event and year to year, but that's because well I'm not as well versed in pre-1900 as many others perhaps, and second because character development is complicated. I promise that once I get to areas I'm more at ease with in terms of history the chapters will most likely get longer and more tightly space in terms of time. Might even be a chapter for an even because those events are... gonna need a lot of development. Anywho, here is really the chapter where we first get to see a not-so-shiny Alfred.

* * *

Sea To Shining Sea

St. Petersburg, Russian Empire, November 3rd, 1831

Ivan eyed the boy in front of him – he was still a boy, sweet, youthful, almost cherub-faced. But he had very clearly grown since the last time he had seen the young nation – his jaw somewhat more defined than it had been, his high cheekbones more obvious, and he was far taller than Ivan remembered, too. Last time he had seen Alfred, he had been about two heads shorter than him, but now there was only about a head left. He'd heard there were a few new stars added to his flag. The boy seemed preoccupied, but as a young nation it was understandable.

"You seem worried," Ivan asked, which caused Alfred's eyes to turn to him.

"Nothing specific, there's a lot going on a bit everywhere," Alfred shrugged, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "I heard you were… uh… busy around here, too."

Ivan tilted his head to the side momentarily in concession. "Europe always tends to be. I had a few disagreements with Poland and my sisters, but it is all sorted now." Ivan saw Alfred wasn't too happy about that idea, but he remained silent - the Old World was something he still couldn't understand, not that Ivan could blame him for not even wanting to try to. "Britain, on the other hand, is very much treading on my nerves, and it seems the situation may get only more complicated."

Alfred scoffed. "Is that a surprise though? He hates your guts, so I'm not honestly too shocked at seeing him trying to… what is he trying to do?"

"I believe he thinks himself entitled and destined to educate Central Asia, what with him being - in his own terms - the 'most industrially advanced great power'. His pride will someday be the downfall of him."

"And he wonders where I get my arrogance," Alfred huffed.

Ivan laughed at that. A sideways glance at the younger nation told him he wasn't amused, however. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Just states bickering between themselves and with my government. It's messy, but nothing unexpected. I mean, I'm still relatively young so, you know, a lot to sort out, right?"

To Ivan, it seemed as if he were seeking some sort of comfort. He decided to provide it, if only to ease the youth's mind. "Yes, perfectly normal."

"But back to England, is this gonna be a subject for war?" Alfred asked, and there seemed to be both curiosity and worry on his mind. Perhaps he was worried of another European war that would drag his continent into it. Perhaps he was worried for other reasons.

Ivan tilted his head side to side. "Perhaps. However, I believe this will develop in a rather... different manner. Britain is... he's a strategist. After all, he did not become an Empire just by random. Have you ever played chess?"

Alfred frowned. "No, but I know what it's about. Kind of."

"Well, he seems intent on playing a large scale game of chess - neither of us going to war, merely building up our armies and buffer zones, spreading our influence at the most."

Alfred shook his head. "That seems boring and pointless. Why the hell would anyone want to do that?"

Ivan shrugged, deciding not to delve into the matter deeper. It would resolve itself in a matter of time anyway. "There are a lot of reasons, and none of them should concern you. This is indeed a very boring matter."

"What about the... the other things? You know, Poland, and your sisters?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. It seemed the boy had a deep interest in the affairs of Europe, far more than he used to have. "Petty squabbles, nothing more than that. It is sorted now, and I doubt any of them will attempt it again."

"What, defying you?"

Ivan looked at Alfred, and could see the way in which he seemed reluctant to accept the way with which Ivan dealt with things - the way Europe dealt with things, be it politics, war, their territories. "You must understand you live a far different life than the rest of us, over here. We've been here thousands of years, this is nothing new for any of us. Your ideals for freedom and liberty are, at the most, thought of as _quaint_ over here. It is not to say we dismiss them - we merely consider them idealistic, not achievable, taking into account the current ways of matters. It is impossible for us to conceive a rule that you consider fair. It would, most likely, lead to nothing less than chaos. The people here are used to being ruled in a certain way, and so that is the way things should remain."

Ivan saw that Alfred seemed less unsettled, but continued. "Even you see disagreements in your day-to-day, and your democracy is what you consider the only way to rule. Imagine us, the Old World, changing to democracy, when the people have no idea what to do with this,... new liberty they've been given." Ivan shook his head. "Nothing very good can come from that."

Alfred shrugged. "I know, I know. I just don't... understand it. It's a different way of life, from which I was only too happy to break away."

"Indeed, you were. And you seem to be faring just fine so far."

Alfred only smiled.

* * *

San Antonio, Texas, December 30th, 1845

Before the war, he had purchased the Louisiana Territory from France. The sheer amount of land he had managed to acquire had been a surprise to him, after having merely sought New Orleans – but he had gotten so much more out of the bargain. When he had first ridden a horse across those prairies and that wide area of land, expanding in every direction, that was when it had felt real, and when he had first felt the reality of expanding. He'd had to admit, it hadn't been a bad feeling at all.

And when he had relieved Spain of his burdensome Floridian territory, he'd heard people mark it a clear triumph of American diplomacy, succeeding after so many years of pointless dispute and finally settled the border between the Empire and the United States. Well, that was until María had gained her independence, and the border was set between the United States and Mexico instead. But that had been a rather proud moment too, seeing how his country was truly establishing itself, and expanding very fast.

But now, it seemed that María was bent on making life difficult for the both of them. Currently, she was completely ignoring his attempts at helping her.

"Keep your nose _out_ of my country!" She huffed, her voice irritated - but Alfred decided against paying it any mind.

"I'm just trying to help!"

"I've warned you before, Alfred, and I will warn you again. This is my country, these are my people, and Texas is _my_ matter to deal with. You leave the territory alone, and we will both be far happier that way."

"They clearly want to be independent, just let them be-"

María huffed. "Oh, for what? For you to annex them freely? I don't think so - and this kind of _poinsettismo_ is exactly what my people are talking about! You are little better than those European bastards unless you let us live our own lives and deal with our own matters. Contrary to what you may believe, this continent is not yours alone!"

"I don't want to 'just annex them' for no reason! They clearly no longer want to be a part of Mexico!" Alfred had tried everything, from negotiation to... well, nothing much more, really.

"Leave it alone. Texas is my territory."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "What are you even going on about? They declared a Republic."

"And that changes nothing," María countered. "I warn you for the last time; you annex Texas, I declare war on you."

Alfred's eyes flashed, but María, with her back turned on Alfred, missed the look that crossed his face. "Fine, if that's how you want to go about it, I'm willing too. Even if my government doesn't like the idea of annexation, if you don't solve this quickly, we will. Remember, this is also my border we're talking about."

María whirled around, outrage plain on her face. "It is my territory! You will deal with whatever outcome _I_ settle on!"

Alfred scowled. "Believe you me, that's not how it works. The people of Texas have the right to be heard too, and that they will be."

María frowned as she saw Alfred storm out of the building, her mind whirling through her options. The man had seemed far too intent on Texas for him not to have had an ulterior agenda - and the words _manifest destiny_ haunted the back of her thoughts.

* * *

Alexandrapol, Russian Empire, February 1856

"I thought you were adamant on neutrality?" Ivan asked.

Alfred hesitated. There was a pause, before he answered. "I am."

"Yet you are here," Ivan continued.

Alfred nodded slowly. "I... am." Ivan raised an eyebrow in question. Alfred sighed. "I'm not _officially_ involved, I'm not here to represent the United States as... as a nation. I'm here to - uh - represent... the volunteers, my citizens. You know?" Alfred coughed into his hand. "They wouldn't let me pick sides so... I have citizens here who volunteered to help with the wounded and all, so that's what I'm here for. Well..." Alfred looked away.

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well, there's been some stuff comin' up, and well I was sent here with a Military Commission."

Ivan was interested - no official involvement, but a Commission was still sent. "A Commission?"

"To... study. Things."

"Things," Ivan reiterated.

"War. How war is done around here. They think I might learn something from how you guys go about war, that I can then use to protect the rest of my country. I mean it's a lot bigger now than it was not long ago, so I need adequate defense. So here I am, taking lessons from you people, trying to kill each other."

Ivan resisted the urge to laugh. Alfred was dodging the main reason, but he would play along. "So take lessons, there is plenty of war to go around."

Alfred glared at Ivan, before sighing. "I came here because I wanted to see how you were faring," he admitted. "You're losing, no?"

"I am."

"How are you-"

"Alfred, I have been through this many times before. It is a war like any other. There is no need for you to worry," Ivan said.

Alfred looked ready to argue, but then fell silent. "I came here to make sure you're fine, so, that's what I'm doing."

Ivan's lips curled slightly,

* * *

Russian Alaska, January 1859

Ivan turned another page in his book when a heavy knock came at the door. He very rarely stayed at the house, but he was currently expecting one of two guests - his first guess was that it would most likely be Arthur.

He went to open the door, and to his surprise, it was Alfred standing there, looking more tired than Ivan remembered.

"Uhm..." Alfred started, and looked rather put-off. Ivan waited patiently as Alfred gathered his wits. Alfred seemed to have many things he wanted to say, and finally what ended up coming out was, "A _bidding war_?"

Ivan made a noise of acknowledgement, and allowed Alfred to step further into the Alaskan house. "Yes, my Emperor seemed to think it would perhaps something of that kind may be favourable to us."

Alfred turned to Ivan, a slightly incredulous look on his face. "And how is that working out?"

Ivan shrugged. "It is not, really. I have yet to receive anything beyond a half-hearted response from the British. Arthur seems to have little interest in the land."

Alfred snorted. "Yeah, well, I think he's got as much territory up north as he wants with Matthew. But why'd you approach us, if you want to sell it to the Brits?"

"We do not want to sell it to the British."

"But you approached them?"

"We asked if they were interested. We don't particularly want to sell it to the British, but we could also use the extra money, really."

Alfred glowered at Ivan, but dropped the look in favour of a roll of his eyes. "Well, I can't buy." Alfred fell into one of the rather plush armchairs in the living area, and Ivan seated himself in another nearby chair with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean with that?"

"That I cannot buy Alaska."

Ivan leaned back in the chair, not quite understanding what the issue at hand really was. "I understand you may be put off by the fact we also propositioned the British, but that was merely a poor attempt at getting a bit more for the territory than we most likely will get. After the last war..." Ivan refused to say he was in need of help - which he most certainly was not - but perhaps Alfred would see his point. "Furthermore, Arthur is rather interested in travelling further and further up north, and should another war break out between the two of us, I fear Alaska may be one of the centres of interest in that war. It is a remote and vulnerable territory, and I believe that should the United States own the territory such a thing may not happen - you would not be affected by any such war, and I would be able to concentrate my forces some-"

Alfred huffed, his leg bouncing up and down - his agitation was clear. "Just - I don't know, don't start a war, then!"

Ivan eyed the young nation - who was definitely avoiding eye contact with him - curiously. "Alfred, is something the matter?" He knew there was some level of political unrest in the United States, but he had been able to pay very little attention to what was going on in the country otherwise.

"I'm..." Alfred winced. "I'm fine. Just some issues I gotta deal with here and there. I - some states are acting up, it's nothing."

"Is that why you will not buy the territory?"

Alfred looked at Ivan. "Yeah," he conceded. "I'm just..." He paused. "I'm just a bit - uh - well, scared, and I just need to focus on what's going on at the moment with what I have already instead of just getting more territory to deal with. I'm sorry, I just can't right now."

Ivan nodded. "I understand. You should have merely said that at the beginning. Also," he continued, "I doubt the British will display any more interest than they have for now, and so the offer still stands should you want it."

Alfred smiled. "Thanks."

"And should you need help, Alfred, know that I will stand by you," Ivan finished.

"I'm glad to hear that," Alfred smiled a bit more, and there was something akin to the same look he had seen some years earlier in the careless youth. But as Alfred's smile faded slowly, his eyes drifting back to the furniture, Ivan saw that it may be one of the few times he would get to see that pure innocence again.

* * *

 _Notes:_

\- _So it turns out Russia has a bit of a history of Cold War-esque stand-offs. Between (about) 1830 and 1895, Russia and the British Empire had a political confrontation over Afghanistan and other Central Asian areas. Russia was scared of Britain adding inroads into the Middle East. Britain was scared of Russia's expansion in Asia, and its threat to India. It led to a number of wars: First and Second Anglo-Afghan War, and First and Second Anglo-Sikh War. Britain wanted to establish buffer states between the two empires, but some of these were annexed by Russia._

 _\- The November Uprising (or Polish Russian war, 1830-31) was a military uprising in Poland against Russia. The uprising was joined by people in Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine. Sadly for Poland, it ended with a decree to the end of Polish autonomy in the Russian Empire._

 _\- Texas was complicated for the US and Mexico. Initially a Mexican territory, Texas declared independence as the Republic of Texas in 1836. Despite Mexican threats to the US of war should the US annex Texas, the US went ahead and did so in 1845. This in turn led to the Mexican-American War from 1846 to 1848._

 _\- Because of the Crimean War, the Russian Empire was in dire need of money. Also, the British Empire had begun to take interest in migrating up north in its Canadian territories, and so they feared that should another war break out between these two empires that Russian America (Alaska) would be an easy and vulnerable target for the British. They thus tried to sell it, approaching both the Americans and Brits about it in the hopes of starting a bidding war. However, it didn't work: the British showed little interest in the territory, and the Americans were dealing with a lot of political issues - the fear of a civil war was constantly rising, and therefore the Americans did not want to buy any more territory when they had to concentrate their military forces possibly on their own territory._

* * *

 **A/N:** I am so sorry this is such a short chapter but I do promise the next one will be a lot, a lot longer and will have both more character arc and relationship development I swear once I get time to write it I hope this filler chapter wasn't too boring but I hope you will stick with me until at least the next chapter - that one I'm diving deep into the American Civil War, with obviously the European involvement in it. I'm just on a bit of a kind of hiatus because of school and uni applications and all that so pleaaaaase bear with me! I promise this will get better and I have definitely not abandoned this.


End file.
